Inside the Seventh Avenue subway station one level beneath Seventh Avenue and Fifty-third street I talk with Harry, or Harry talks with me –––– we talk together. He offers a question about satan and god's angels and the delay between a dream and a dream's manifestation. I don't know the answer, or the answer that he's looking for. I guess fear. Fear's not quite right. "They want you to give up," he says. "That's what the delay is for," he says, "so that you'll give up." I don't have to press for more. There's no need for another question. It's obvious. Anyone who pushes on past the delay; anyone who does not give up when they want you to give up, will have it: the glory.